A Slice of Life
by Little Blue Pixie
Summary: Life is like a pizza, with every slice you don't quite know what to expect. So come and take a slice from the turtles. A series of drabbles exploring the inner workings of the life of the turtles and friends.
1. Kingdom

_1. Kingdom_

He lowered the mask above his face, his brown eyes peeking out through the small glass frame. He lifted the welding torch in his hand, turning the knob with careful precision. A short blue-tinted flame emerged from the spout, reflecting brightly on the glass surface of the helmet. His eyes sparked, matching the vibrancy of the flame. He twisted the knob again, increasing the length of the flame.

He leaned the torch forward, pressing the blue blaze against the metal pipe. The flames flickered, burning azure meeting cold steel. The pipe melted with ease and silvery trails flowed down, reaching the end of cylinder.

His face was hidden behind the welding mask, a safety device that was used for protecting, but to him meant so much more. The mask was his crown, a symbol of his monarchy and power. He tilted his head down, focusing more intently on the soldering. The welding torch was his royal scepter and the blue flames blazing were the beautiful sapphires and diamonds toping the staff.

He knelt down, the flame cutting through the remainder of the sewage pipe. In his eyes, this was an imperial duty charged only for him, the king. He reached the end of the pipe, slowly turning off his royal tool. The flame ceased and the pipe was divided into halves. He raised the mask, revealing a pleased expression.

He set the mask and welding torch aside, taking hold of the next necessary tools. His eyes twinkled as he bent over, toiling away at his next masterpiece. A vast array of mechanical instruments and apparatuses lined the room, covering shelves and tables. Each was a delicate subject, one that he had personally sought to create. He had given them life and tended to them, as any proper king should. He grinned as he worked away, his eyes showing an unseen enthusiasm.

Here in this garage was where he reigned supreme.

* * *

**Written On: **August 13th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Alright, so a short drabble reaching just around 321 words. I think that's a good starting point for me. So, I have decided to take on notawordsmith's Drabble A Day challenge and try to write a drabble a day!

After reading a few drabbles from notawordsmith, I felt inspired to do this challenge. I will try to write at least one drabble a day if I can and have fun while I do so!

I was playing _Vitamin Sting Quartet's_ orchestral cover of _Viva La Vida _on repeat while writing this. It works so well with the concept, I definitely suggest listening to it if you can.


	2. Options

_2. Options_

"I refuse to do this!" April exclaimed, thrashing about in chair. Her arms and legs were confined by the iron cuffs that held her in place. No matter how much she struggled, she could not break free from her restraints.

"Now, now Miss O'Neil. This little temper tantrum will get you nowhere," a sinister voice spoke out from the shadows surrounding her. April could not see her captor but knew he was close, observing her with those menacing eyes of his. The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling above was the only thing that provided appropriate lighting. It was constantly swinging back and forth and April was caught in between the creeping shadows and dimming lights.

"I'm not doing this! You can't make me!" April screamed at the darkness, narrowing her eyes with intense fury. She was not going be take part in his little game, she was not some pawn that he could control. A faint laughter was heard, echoing in the small confines of the room. It was an overpowering malevolence, instilling horror and fright in April.

"Miss O'Neil, you don't have a choice." A cold breath brushed against the back of April's neck, prickling the tiny hairs. She whipped her head around, finding nobody to standing behind her. She felt a shiver run down her spine, the temperature in the room becoming lower.

"I do have a choice! And it's my choice to not participate," April shouted loudly, denouncing the man's power. Her face was masked with bravery, hiding the true fear that was eating away at her. A hand suddenly grasped April's shoulder, causing her to shriek in surprise. "You are mistaken Miss O'Neil. You do not have any real choices, only my options."

April turned her head, coming face to face with the man holding her hostage. He was shrouded in darkness and she was only able to make out the light shining on his lenses. He stepped around, now standing at April's side. Half of his body was bathed in light and the crisp, clean black business suit he wore contrasted it. He was a demon hidden in human form.

"You aren't going to win this Bishop! They'll find me!" April leaned forward, baring her teeth in a vicious manner. The man simply laughed, finding her display to be harmless and amusing. He situated himself in front of April, grabbing her arms in a deadly grip and bent over. His face was a few inches from hers and as his face moved close, April inched back. His face resembled a gargoyle's in April's mind, with sharp edges and statue like response.

Her head bumped the back of the chair and the man smirked, his glasses glinting in the low light. His eyes pierced through the glass and she could clearly see the harsh, empty onyx orbs. April felt her body grow tense and her fear was beginning to show. The man stepped back, revealing four television screens from behind. April could see four short, green turtles in each screen. Each television focused on a single turtle, showcasing their location in the base. In a moment's notice the entire army of agents could be sent on them.

April's expression was a mixture of terror and shock, unable to hide the fear any longer. Bishop readjusted his necktie, giving off a fiendish smile. "Miss O'Neil you are wasting precious time. So, I will ask you one final time. Which option will you choose?"

* * *

**Written On: **August 14th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Woah, almost hit 600 words with this drabble! This drabble came to me the second I saw the prompt. It was fun to try and get into Bishop's mind, all those years of watching Criminal Minds has finally paid off! Thank you for the lovely reviews, I will try to respond to them as soon as I can. And hey, I might even have the next drabble up later today too!


	3. Nurturing

_3. Nurturing_

The sounds of music echoed through the lower floor of the farmhouse, giving life to the rustic home. Many of the wedding guests occupied the first floor, with a few retreating up the stairs to the second level. The sun had long since set and despite the chaos that had previously ensured, the reception still went on.

Karai sat at the bottom of the staircase, her hands neatly folded on her lap. Humans, aliens and mutants alike danced excitedly, their worries seemingly forgotten as they celebrated the joyous occasion. Karai cast a glance at the turtles, the brothers all participating in some aspect.

It was strange, a year and a half ago Karai had been intent on seeing their demise. She had been driven by a destructive vengeance, seeking out their end. She would not rest until the wronging done upon her father had been corrected.

Karai watched the cheerful brothers, unable to resist smiling. It was a delightful event and she was enticed by the festive atmosphere. Somehow during their extended absence, Karai's anger had simply faded. She saw no point in bringing more hatred to a world filled to the brim with it. She viewed the turtles as her allies, her friends and no longer as enemies.

"Are you enjoying the party Karai?" Karai blinked, startled by the sudden presence of Master Splinter.

"Yes, I am Splinter-san," she answered with a courteous nod.

She and the master rat did not speak very often, her personal vendetta had made her see him as her father's banisher. He had aided in exiling her adoptive father and it had saddened her. That fury had disappeared but still now, there was a lingering anger inside of her. She pushed it aside, allowing silence to fill between them.

"That is good. Would you care to dance?" The elderly master's whiskers twitched, a faint smile appearing on his lips as he faced her. Karai briefly turned away from him, hesitant to respond to his request. She sat in contemplation, while she no longer believed him to be her enemy, she still felt conflicted.

Karai looked back at the elderly master, graced by his gentle expression. As she met his eyes, she did not see the vile creature that had exiled her father from the world. She saw the eyes of a nurturing father, a caring master. He was a benevolent, compassionate being like any good father was.

She nodded, her lips forming a tender smile. She took hold of his extended paw, stepping down from the steps. "I would be honoured Master Splinter."

* * *

**Written On: **August 15th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Ah, drabble number three! I struggled a bit with this prompt. I couldn't think of any good idea to write. I had originally planned to do something with Karai and the Shredder but I felt more inclined to do this. Thank you for the kind reviews once again, it always makes me happy to see them. Well, until my next drabble!


	4. Crest

_4. Crest_

The porcelain plate fell to the ground with a loud smash, spraying small portions of the delicate china everywhere. Michelangelo jumped back, horrified at what he had done. He looked around the room anxiously, crying out in despair, "Oh no no no no _no!_"

He bent over, scrambling to collect the shattered pieces before anyone else noticed. It was not uncommon for an object to be accidently broken in the Hamato household. Between their rigorous training and brotherly brawls, it was a miracle that anything managed to stay intact.

The dish that Michelangelo had knocked over when he bumped into the shelf was not just any ordinary plate. This plate was a precious item, a lone object Master Splinter had created with his own hands.

The plate was not the most exquisite of china, a better one could easily have been bought. The specific design painted on the ceramic surface was what made it irreplaceable. It was an ancient Japanese symbol, the Hamato family crest. It represented more than just a dinner plate, to Master Splinter it was a valuable emblem of their family.

Mikey shoved the plate shards into his palm, foolishly cutting his hand in the rush. He sprang up, cradling his injured hand in an overdramatic manner. "I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding!"

The ruckus he was creating had not been unheard and he could hear his father calling his name out, inquiring as to what had happened. Mikey's face went from worried to panicked, his oozing wound all but forgotten. "N-Nothing's wrong Master Splinter!" he nervously yelled out, his lie quite obvious.

His father must have noticed the unease in his voice, because in a moment the master rat appeared in the kitchen doorway. His eyes moved from his son to the scattered pieces of what once had been his handcrafted plate. His eyes briefly flashed, with what Michelangelo knew was sorrow.

He set his eyes on Michelangelo, visibly concerned. "My son." He sighed, walking over and grasping the younger turtle's hand. Mikey lowered his head in shame, expressing his disappointment. "...Sorry, Master Splinter."

* * *

**Written On: **August 15th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Two drabbles in one day, I am on a role! So, another short drabble. Well, if you can call 340 words short. It was a piece that was inspired by my recent accidently breaking of a dinner plate. I am a klutz, but today my clumsiness inspired me to write.

A lovely shout out to all of my wonderful reviews, you guys are the best! And to those who are interested in taking part in the drabble a day challenge, check out the forum run by notawordsmith. Trust me, you'll love it!


	5. Cactus

_5. Cactus_

_Mrs. April Jones_. It felt odd for April to be referred to by Casey's last name. They had been married for almost four months, but she still hadn't gotten used to being called by that title. She had grown up an O'Neil. It was a proud and strong surname that hailed from the Irish homeland of her ancestors. She took pride in that fact.

She had been addressed as an O'Neil her entire life, but now she was a Jones. It was strange, but it would eventually become just another normal aspect of her life, much like her husband's accident prone tendencies.

"Ouch! April that hurt!" Casey whined loudly as April plucked another cactus needle from his cheek with a pair of tweezers. She dropped the prickly thorn in the large bowl, adding to the ever growing amount.

"Well, if you would just sit still like I had asked you to, it wouldn't hurt so much," April replied, casually pulling out another needle from Casey's cheek. The juvenile adult flinched, leaning far from April's reach. April growled, her patience reaching its end.

"Arnold Casey Jones!" April took an authoritative stance, firmly setting the tweezers on the tabletop. Casey winced at the loud, commanding tone his wife used. It was one he was all too familiar with, his own mother used the same one. "You are going to sit upright and not move, otherwise I will leave you covered in cactus needles!"

"Ah jeez, babe don't call me that! You sound like my ma!" Casey frowned, disapproval written across his face. He didn't like being called by his full name, it was demeaning.

"Don't you _babe_ me! You woke me up in the middle of the night to pluck off cactus needles! _Cactus needles! _Casey, I don't even know where you found a cactus in the middle of New York City. The nearest desert is over five states away!"

"I told you, my bike crashed into one on the curb. Someone must have left it out for garbage or sumthin'," Casey quietly injected, shrinking back from her overpowering glare.

"_And_ I have some important clients coming to pick up their purchase in—" April briefly stopped her tirade, glancing at the clock on the stove. "Six hours! It's one in the morning Casey. _One! _I should still be asleep, not dealing with this!"

"I said I was sorry April! Why are you so upset? ...Wait, don't tell me it's your time of the month—"

"Aggh! That's it! You can call up Raphael, I am not dealing with this!"

With that, April stormed off, slamming the bedroom door behind her as she left Casey alone in the kitchen. Indeed she would eventually become accustomed to being called Mrs. Jones, but she would never understand how her husband could get himself into such bizarre situations. Never.

* * *

**Written On: **August 16th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **What happens when Casey Jones meets a cactus? It results in one very strange drabble!


	6. Passion

_6. Passion_

It was hard to pinpoint where everything had begun to fall apart. Stockman had thought it to be the fault of his former lab assistant. The curious red-haired woman had felt inclined to stick her nose into his business. She found the secrets he intended to be kept hidden. He tried to silence her but it resulted in the opposite effect.

She led those accursed turtles back to his laboratory and everything spiraled downwards for him. Failure after failure, another part of him was painfully hacked away until he was reduced to a lumpy, pink brain and severely damaged eyeball. The Shredder did not accept disappointments, he wanted his plans to succeed and Stockman was just another expendable lackey in his eyes.

His mother had always told him he had an unparalleled passion for science. His teachers, his professors and classmates all saw it. He found delight in creating new experiments, there was always a challenge in every next task and he wanted to conquer it. The passion soon grew into an obsession and it drove him to countless extremes.

His end came because his arrogance and passion were too overpowering. He wanted power, wealth, and acknowledgement, even when he had achieved all of that, he still greedy and lusted for more.

Bubbles swirled around his mouth as the remaining oxygen escaped from his lungs. His downfall had been his own doing, his undying passion had led to his own demise. It was truly ironic for Baxter Stockman. A man full of potential destroyed himself in the end.

His consciousness was slipping and a comforting darkness was coaxing him. It was calling him, tempting him with an eternal slumber. Stockman closed his eyes, descending further into the depths of the East River. A final thought came to his mind, allowing Baxter to see the truth behind those words spoken years ago.

_The sky was my limit mama, it always was._

* * *

**Written On: **August 20th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **I apologize for the lack of an update. Life has just been very busy! School's starting soon and I need to get prepared for it. I enjoyed writing this little fic, it was definitely interesting to write about Baxter.


	7. Picturesque

_7. Picturesque_

Four teenage mutant ninja turtles were always moving, whether it they were running from the rooftops or training in the sewers. Still, rest was required and that moment of tranquility was available for all to see in their mock family room. Four turtles were sprawled on the couch, sleeping away.

They were nuzzled next to one another, sharing an old, tiny blanket. It was spread over their torsos, leaving the rest of their bodies bare. Their chests rose in union, but the sounds expelled from each turtle were extremely distinct.

The first turtle breathed barely audible. His brows furrowed downward, revealing a brief glance into his inner mind. He turned over, pulling much of the ragged blanket with him. It passed over the three brothers, leaving the farthest one exposed.

The turtle on the end snored thunderously and his three other brothers were unaffected by it. He tossed over, grabbing at the air with his hands. His face was caught in a forced anger, desperately wishing to be peaceful again. The turtle paused momentarily, releasing the imaginary fiend. His face relaxed, becoming serene.

He rolled over, hugging the closest object, his brother covered in popcorn kernels. The youngest of the bunch slept with a goofy expression. It was hard to say what he was dreaming about, his mind was always changing, imagination ran wild in his sleep.

He had his arm extended, lying over the plastron of the next brother. That turtle was squished between the shell of the oldest and the side of the youngest. Somehow he managed to fit in the small, almost claustrophobic space. He softly snored, briefly mumbling words under his breath. He wore a calm expression, content in his confining area.

It was a rare sight and April couldn't help but snap a picture with her camera. The flash made the turtles stir, but they still slept. The rat master beside her smiled at the picture she displayed, showing the moment caught in time.

"Perfect."

* * *

**Written On: **August 20th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Four sleeping turtles? Adorable!


	8. Reflection

_8. Reflection_

Mirrors are not the strange, mystical objects that reveal a person's true appearance like most fiction portrays. All of that is just a clever ploy to get suckers to believe and make them like the rest of society. Gullible and spineless.

Mirrors only served one purpose for Hun, to be a reflective surface when he needed it. He didn't want the mirror to be his personal shrink and he most certainly did _not_ need to doubt who he was. He was Master Hun, leader of the Purple Dragons and the man who ran Chinatown. Nobody told him otherwise.

The former servant of the Shredder faced the reflective glass, tossing aside his black shirt. The mirror reflected back his tall, hulking body with full view. Hun could see the scars lining his torso, the tattoos covering both arms and the three claw markings on his cheek with perfect clarity.

Each was a reminder of his triumphs, proving his superior worth. While he reviled in each win, there were also scars that showed his losses. He was not proud of them, but with each failure he learned more. He grew stronger, faster and smarter.

As Hun turned around, lifting his right arm, the mirror showed a large ragged scar running down the right side under the arm. It was not noticeable by most, as Hun preferred to cover it with sleeveless tanks and shirts.

The scar was not one he was proud off, while he carried the others with pride, this one made him feel shame. It was not one created by his own doing, the mark had been done by the hands of a seedy, back alley surgeon.

Hun was once attached to another, an older twin who bore little resemblance to him. He had been merely a child when the operation was done but he did not once regret losing that spare limb. It had been his weakness, the one thing that held him back.

Hun stared at the scar with disgust, repulsed that it was his own branding. It would forever haunt him, reminding him of the one fault he used to have. Hun was not proud of this scar or the actions that had been done to receive it, but it was necessary. It made him stronger and to him, that would always be worth the sacrifice.

* * *

**Written On: **September 8th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Woooh, that was a busy past few weeks! Sorry for the little disappearance, but I'm back! University just started for me and it's been quite eventful. I'll do my best to update whenever I get the chance, which will probably be once a week.


	9. Festive

_9. Festive_

Leonardo entered through the back door, carefully opening it without creating much sound. April had called him earlier asking for some assistance, with Casey out of town her usual box lifter was absent and she was in need of a temporary one. Leo, the honourable turtle that he was, accepted the request.

He stepped into the front half of the shop, the room shrouded in darkness. It was normal given the lateness of the hour, but Leo had thought that perhaps a light would be left on for him. "April?" Leonardo called out, moving farther into the room.

The door suddenly slammed behind him, trapping him in the darkness. The turtle spun around, reaching for the swords perched on his shell. There were the briefest sounds of shuffling, but Leo was unable to pinpoint from where. "Who's there?" he yelled out, narrowing his eyes in the accursed dark.

A hand brushed past his shoulder and that was all it took. In the next moment, Leo grabbed the hidden attacker's wrist, thrusting him over his shoulder and dropped down on the body, holding his sword over the person's neck.

"Leo, wait, stop!" April's voice suddenly called out and the lights came on, revealing the secret the darkness had been hiding. Surrounding the back half of the shop was Leonardo's brothers, father and friends. All were surprised, shocked or stunned and April was rushing over, panicked. The room was covered in colourful decorations, balloons hung off various pieces of furniture and streamers lined the walls.

A large sign, with the words written big and brightly, _'Happy Birthday Leo,' _was hanging down above the curtained windows. Leo blinked in confusion, glancing down at the person trapped beneath him. Michelangelo was sheepishly smiling at him, holding his hands up in a defensive manner.

"Um...happy birthday bro!"

* * *

**Written On: **September 8th, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Ah, never try to pull a surprise birthday party on a ninja turtle. There are serious repercussions!


	10. Pristine

_10. Pristine_

Serling was not a robot who was known to remain silent. Whatever came to his electronic mind, he spoke without delay. Pleasantries were saved only for the most respected of guests. The four terrapin teens that his young master so fondly idolized were not included in that grouping.

The robot did not ask much from them, just a few simple rules which be followed. _No running, no fighting, no arguing or yelling, no pranks, no dangerous games, no violence whatsoever, no putting Cody in danger, no sparring, no practicing, no training, no rewiring me, no breaking the priceless antiques—_and the list could go on and on.

But perhaps the most important of rules, aside from Cody's safety, was that everything was to be kept _clean and orderly_. A home reflected its residents and vice versa. Serling would not stand to see the penthouse reduced to a pig stein.

Cody was the heir to O'Neil Tech, any wealthy visitors that graced their home should be amazed by the sight, not appalled. He worked tirelessly to make his master's home worthy of his status and he intended to keep it that way.

Serling was glad for the brief moment of silence, for no danger was coming to the _expensive _china or his master. All was well, for now.

—_Slam! Crash! Smash! "MIKEY!"_

_Sigh_...Serling would never be rid of them, would he?

* * *

**Written On: **September 27, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Poor Serling, the guys never gave him a break, did they?


	11. Creation

_11. Creation_

The blank sheet of paper was taunting him, he swore it. The jars full of sticky, aging paint were open, lids tossed aside without much care. He sat cross-legged, rubbing his chin in deep concentration. He wanted to paint, create a masterpiece that matched his namesake.

The little turtle tot pouted, glaring at the page. His mind was soaring with ideas, yet he couldn't materialize a single one. The paper was to blame, it was. Its emptiness was draining his mind of ideas and creativity! The turtle scowled more, crossing his arms and huffing at the wicked thing.

A few shouts caught the turtle's attention as a soccer ball flew through the air, smashing into the four uncovered paint jars. The turtle blinked, screaming girlishly as he covered his face with his arms.

He watched in horror as paint erupted, splattering everywhere. Dozens of colours stained the turtle, his evil sheet of paper and the striped carpet he sat on. He blinked, lowering his arms when the danger was averted.

He paused, glancing down at his no longer blank sheet. The paint was sprayed over the page in a messy manner, colours overlapped, mixing and creating new shades. It was no longer a clean white sheet, but now a rainbow-dyed disaster.

He blinked, suddenly hit with inspiration. He ran his fingers over the paint, further mixing them and producing a new image. Once done he smiled, holding up the picture as his other brothers surrounded him in search of their lost ball.

The picture was visible for all to see, an abstract artwork with rivers of blue, spots of red, orange blotches and purple swirls.

It was a clumsy, childish creation, but it was his masterpiece.

* * *

**Written On:** November 2nd, 2012_  
_**Disclaimer: **TMNT © Nickelodeon  
**A/N: **Well now, I haven't posted in a while now, have I? You can blame school for that, gosh I get assignments almost every day! Well, enjoy this cute little drabble inspired by my adorable little cousin, who is a mini Picasso in the making.

P.S. Also, I have to say I absolutely love the new series, it's so funny and cute! Donnie is adorkable and Mikey is such a cutie! I can't get enough of it!


	12. Tapestry

_12. Tapestry_

The art of sewing was one that Splinter takes pride it. It is a delicate process, weaving the needle through the material, stitching together holes without tearing them even more. Though his hands were not made for the needles and threads of the surface world, he came to use them even better than most humans.

But for him, it was not always a valuable skill. It had started out as a simple tool for survival. There was many a time when blankets or cloths that he found were torn and tattered, with holes needing to be repaired. They could not be used in such a condition and Splinter taught himself how to mend the damage, though it was not something he was able to learn overnight.

He struggled, not knowing how one could repair fabric with a needle as thin as his whiskers. He secretly would sneak to the surface while his sons slept, observing the surface dwellers in hopes of learning the secret techniques of sewing. Various people took part in the art—a grandmother and her grandson, a husband and wife, young children, elderly folks and even adolescents.

He would watch from the shadows, mimicking their movements with careful precision. His efforts were crude at first, the stitching never holding together in the right way. Slowly, but surely, Splinter began to progress. His lines become closer, the thread holding together became stronger and the stitching lasted.

It took him time, but eventually he became a master of interlacing, not only with thread and fabric, but also fixing bonds of the soul. When masks are frayed and cut beyond repair, he sits in his room carefully sewing each tear by hand until they are perfected. When hearts are broken, he will sit with that person, taking each individual piece and knit an invisible stitch to connect them again.

* * *

**A/N: **So, it's been over three months since I lasted updated. Sorry about that, school decided to take central stage in my life. I'm back now since my exams are over and I plan to make the most of my free time. I've also changed this to my collection of Ninja Turtles drabbles, so I'll be doing any kind of prompt that I find or that comes to mind.


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